Matheson VS Neville
by Bea Ryan
Summary: Jason and Charlie's first conversation after their reunion in season two.


Jason tried to rub his head as he came to, but he couldn't move his hands. They were tied together in front of him and to his feet. He squinted, trying to pinch the clouds from his brain, before looking up to survey the trouble. Miles leaned against the far wall, whiskey in hand and a bemused, half in the bag expression on his face. Rachel sat at a table on the other side of the room scribbling in a notebook. Charlie sat ten feet away with a gun in her lap and her attention on him.

"Somehow this all feels familiar," he said.

"I didn't know your real name last time we had you tied up," Charlie answered.

"Not like it's helping me now."

Miles crossed the room to them. "And once again, Nipples, you're still alive because Charlie wouldn't let me put a bullet in you."

Jason met his gaze, and the two men exchanged hard, dry smiles. "So if I wait six months we'll all be on the same side and against Monroe again?"

"Bass is with us now," Miles said. "It's not up for negotiation. Your fate, however, is a little less certain. Can't have you following us."

"Miles." Charlie said. It wasn't a plea, just an ending statement.

"Talk some sense into him," Miles said. He refilled his glass and left the room with Rachel trailing behind.

Charlie and Jason watched them go, listening to the soft thump of their footsteps up the stairs, then the creak and click of a door.

"One room?" Jason asked.

"I'm not supposed to have noticed," Charlie answered.

Jason nodded. "At least you like your stepdad. Mine is probably having my mother tortured right now."

"Do you really think they'll give her back if you kill Monroe?" Charlie asked.

"No," Jason answered. His expression was hard and certain. "I think they'll kill her and my dad and send me to a work camp."

"So why kill Monroe?"

"So they stop torturing her," he answered. "I can't save her, but I can be sure they'll end it. There's no reason to keep her alive once they're done with my dad."

"What about to keep you in line?" Charlie asked.

"I said they'd send me to a work camp. I didn't say I'd last long there. I've already seen the Patriot prison system. It's designed to get wells dug, coal mined, and crops harvested. That's it, and when there's always a steady supply of new workers there's no reason to keep the used ones well fed."

"So why not join us and fight the Patriots?" Charlie asked.

"Do you think you can win?"

"No," she answered. "But I'll die fighting."

"I'll die knowing my mom is at peace."

"They aren't going to give you her body. You'll never really know."

"I know," he said with his head hung. "I'm doing the best I can for her anyway." He looked up and locked eyes with Charlie. "I left her behind when I joined the rebels. It ate at me. I won't do that again."

"Wouldn't she want you to do the right thing?" Charlie asked.

"You mean fight the Patriots?" Jason asked curiously. "No. No, she wouldn't. Charlie, my mom was married to the Patriot Secretary of State. I told her some of what they did to me in the reprogramming camp and her answer was to get me a better job with them." He laughed. "Might as well make the suffering worth it, right?"

"And you still want to save her?"

"Your mom is dating your uncle and you're rolling with it," he answered. The anger grew within him as he watched her watching him, judging him. "Hell, Miles told you to forgive Monroe, the guy you swore to kill, and now you're working with him. At least my family is honest about the fact that they're self-serving bastards. No one pretends they care how I feel or tells me to be OK with it. They just tell me to suck it up and shut up about it."

Charlie's hand slid to the handle of the knife in her thigh holster. Her expression was blank as she drew the blade, turning it so it caught the flicker of firelight with a brief orange flare. "I could end this all right now."

"It's the same thing I told you way back when we first met you couldn't stop thanking me for saving you. There are two parts to every decision: knowing what's right and then doing it. Life is a lot easier to take when you do both."

She stared at him, reviewing every decision she'd seen him make. To her there was no rhyme or reason to them, but a pattern emerged when she considered that he might have always been doing what he thought was right. "You were trying to be my knight back then, weren't you? Some sort of save the princess at all costs fantasy?"

"Something like that."

"And you're hoping to do the same thing for your mom now."

"Maybe," he conceded.

"Your hero complex is going to get you killed," she said. "But not today." She cut through his ropes and used her blade to gesture to the door. "Make sure you go down fighting for the right thing."


End file.
